Now You Don't
by winterminch
Summary: With a sleight of hand and a sleight of mind, she's everything they'll need, in time. With thick dark hair and a dashing smile, she's the one to make his heart beat 100 miles. So maybe this is another story about a fifth Horseman with a few tricks up her sleeves, but it could be another new view point to Now You See Me. Jack/OC. Rated T.
1. MAD AS A HATTER

**NOW YOU DON'T  
WINTERMINCH**

* * *

_A/N: Hola everyone! winterminch here. For those returning, I changed my username. For those who are just joining, it's nice to meet you._

_I do not own Now You See Me, but I was so intrigued by the idea, that I had to post _something.

_I know making an **OC Insert**_ _is quite **overused**_ _already, but I said fuck it, I want in._

**_So how about that summary too? Idk, guys, pretty proud of it._**

_I thought, "better jump on when the gun is still hot."_

_That being said._

_Sit back and:_

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

**PROLOGUE: MAD AS A HATTER**

* * *

"Hey lady! Aren't you the Mad Hatter?"

Truth is, I really don't like performing to children anymore.

_Especially_ at this age.

10 - the gracious year where they begin to question the warped reality we all grew up in. Where toy cars are no longer acceptable play things because the real thing is so much better and Barbie's made us little girls self-conscious because we'd never look like them without slimming out and spraying on twenty good pounds of makeup and hair gel. 10 years old is when they begin to use their brains - as tiny and undeveloped as they are for the wrong things.

At least, when you're 20, 30, 50, you look past that silliness and just enjoy what's being done right before your eyes.

It's the crossing point where all children start to question _me and _my life's work in the most literal way.

_Is it really magic?_ They'll beg, pulling on my jeans with their grubby little fingers. They'll ruin it verbally, and ruin your entire act in a blink of an eye because they can't believe for 5 seconds that the rabbit I just pulled by the ears out of the hat wasn't hidden down in there 30 seconds before. It's a loss of revenue, really. It's a sad, sad moment for all magicians alike - for anyone trying to install a little more happiness in a young mind.

Quite honestly, I was sick of it.

Raising my eyebrows down at the little tyke, I felt myself sigh and toss the lit cigarette I'd just began to smoke over the side of the bridge. This river was already polluted up the wall; not like I would be doing anything to it that would throw off the balance of the universe, much less the ecosystem. Besides, with his mom standing by, probably wouldn't be completely desired to infect her son in the same smoke and addiction that shaved a few years off of my life already.

"Alright kid," I adjusted the black baseball cap on my head, fixing the ponytail I'd woven through it as I hopped down from my spot on the concrete ledge. I could feel the sun baking into my back through the black tank top I'd pulled on this morning.

True to the name, the reason I stick to this spot, is simply because I've got the stage home here on the south wall of the bridge: Mad Hatter. People like it. Why? Don't ask me. My real name is Margaret Hart, and I've never told anyone otherwise. And still?

"- pick a card, any card. I'm at your service."

The child pursed his lips in thought when from the back pocket of the dark jeans I wore, in between my fingers I spread out a good half a deck of playing cards. After a giggle from his mother and a shift from foot to foot from me, I already was attracting a bit of a crowd. A tourist couple came over with a Nikon camera and snapped a shot. An old man hobbled this way, leaning against his cane. Some guy in a hoodie found himself leering close by, arms crossed over his chest. I ignored them all, and instead, focused.

"This one." He said proudly, sticking his hand out to grab the upside down card. Not a shock to me. Therefore, I completely turned around on the balls of my feet with a sort-of smile. After all. Still don't like kids.

"Okay, look at the card." He said that he was. "Show it to your mom." She giggled again and said it was done. Throwing my arm back, I held out my hand. "Put it here." He did.

Turning back to face the audience, it had grown in size. There was a decent amount of people, a dozen or more, waiting to see what I was going to do. Ah, good old American curiosity. Nothing like it, was there?

"Alright, this card?" I looked down at it, noticing it was the Queen of Hearts. The corner was bent a little. Not on purpose, probably just from the shape of my pocket. But hey, not a bad thing either. Shrugging both shoulders, I tossed it over my back too without a second thought and felt a couple of people gasp. The playing piece probably was on it's way down into the river, floating next to my fallen unlit smoke I regret getting rid of already. "Don't need it anymore."

"Why?" The child cried, brown owl eyes from behind his glasses growing double in size. I pointed at his jacket pocket, leaning back to rest against the concrete wall I had been seated against before. He buried his fingers deep down into the sides, feeling around on my command.

"I've got a spare hidden away in there somewhere. I'm gonna need it back now."

Wait for it -

"Woah, _cool mom_! Look! It's in my pocket!"

That's the one. That's the reaction I was looking for.

"How did you do that?"

And that was the question I hated.

"You know, a magician never reveals his, or in my situation, _her_ tricks." I held my fingers out again for the card, and he reluctantly handed it over with a frown. Poor lad. But hey, this was a free show, and come on, not everything was cheap. No souvenirs this time around. So, for my final act, taking it in between both thumbs, a slight of hand and a slight of mind later, the boy squealed in shock. The card was on fire, a pretty blue flame, and then, it was gone, smoke and ash whisked away by the sea breeze that came in from the coast.

A moderate amount of clapping ensured. Some people left, some stuck around just in case there was more, but I was more concerned about the little boy who grabbed my hand and looked upon it, as if for some kind of answer to all this madness.

Madness. Huh. How ironic. Maybe I get the name after all.

"How _did _you do that?" The mom whispered too, a hand on her collarbone, the other on her son's shoulder to gently take him back a few steps. I didn't blame her very much - any sort of pyro next to your child is a dangerous mix. Or so I'd think. For my own sake, I retracted my fingers from the small child's, back into my pockets, and allowed myself to give her the tiniest smile I could manage.

"One word."

She said nothing.

"Magic."

When in reality, luck. Logic. After all, he was caring a book that was called: _The Magic Touch _all day, and after hearing that he was looking for me because his best friend had seen my side street work, when I passed them on the street for a second time while getting a hot dog around noon, it wasn't too difficult to drop the card down into his pocket when he wasn't looking. It was only a matter of time before he found me, and the rest was history.

His awestruck expression was all I needed to be satisfied, however, it wasn't until I returned back to my spot, waiting to watch the sun go down like I always did that I noticed that down in my pocket, where the missing Queen of Hearts card should be,_ it_ stuck out of the deck like a sore thumb, poking my hip in an unusual way.

Dragging the playing piece out that wasn't mine, I frowned, and gazed upon the tarot card of Justice. The strange art of a queen on a thrown with a double edge sword so true was peculiar enough already, but the words on the back were even more perplexing. So strange, I found myself waking up in the middle of the night later that evening just to read it all over again.

_MARCH 29TH_

_4:44 PM_

_45 EAST EVAN ST_

_NY, NY_


	2. I, BALD BROTHER, CURLY, HENLEY AND HE

**NOW YOU DON'T  
WINTERMINCH**

* * *

**ONE: I, BALD BROTHER, CURLY, HENLEY AND HE**

* * *

**MARGARET'S VIEW**

* * *

"...I think you know _exactly_ what I've been up to, Danny; I saw all of your 'anonymous' posting on my website."

I winced. That was harsh. Poor guy.

"You have a website? That's good. That's good for you. Get the word out."

And _that_ was very sarcastic. I no longer felt much sympathy after all.

From my silent perch upon the next flight of stairs, stationed above the floor with the room meant clearly for all of us, I found myself listening instead of seeing. In fact, my eyes were even closed as I leaned my face against the banister. My guess - the two were an old flame that died out. It seemed like a one sided argument. The girl was winning, and the guy sounded a bit like an ass.

Yet, their conversation was cut short when they came face to face with Mr. Bald Eagle in a Fedora, who since arriving 5 minutes earlier, had hummed himself a tune that sounded like a mix of 'You Are My Sunshine' and 'Slim Shady' in a key that kept going a little sharp. Not to mention that he kept alternating back and forth between that little mash up, and the Canadian National Anthem. I wasn't sure what could be going through his mind, if he knew I was present, if any of them knew, but I had a feeling that I was going to quickly find out.

"Oh." The man against the door began, a look of surprise coating his features. I peeked down the staircase to watch the scene unfold, taking to a stand as quietly as possible. The entire situation was shady; if I knew anything, it was that shady situations were not to be messed with until you understood them properly. Then, and only then, can you attempt to make sense of it all. This was one of those times. "'Kay. _Clearly_ none of us were the only ones chosen, so let me be the first one to kick my ego to the curb."

Despite myself, I found my lips turning up in the corners. I shuffled down one stair. So he had a sense of humor in a seemingly perplexing moment. Maybe he wasn't so strange after all. I mean, at least he was being funny, unlike Curly Hair who decided it was his turn to stride forward and take charge.

"Yeah, 'scuse me?"

"Doors locked." Baldie said over him.

"I'll check." Curly barked back, side-stepping around the beefy man to shake the door handle a little. It was locked good - I'd already tried to get in before hand, then found my now vacant seat and waited. Yet, now I inch closer to the strangers, noticing they seemed just as confused as I about the debacle of the moment.

"You - no, hold it, don't tell me." The bald brother beamed, putting a hand to his face in concentration as he stared at the female.

Was he...trying to guess her name?

You could hear his leather jacket stretch at the movement. I noticed his eyes, thoughtful, and how they shifted from her face, to her cup, in a split second, then back again like nothing had happen. It was all I needed to see to understand his play a few moments later. Sleight of hand, sleight of mind. It just depended on how you do it.

"Uh, Helen? No, Henley."

"It's on your coffee cup." I murmured, finally reaching the bottom step and turning to walk down the hall passage we all breathed the same dusty air of. Asshat-At-12-O'-Clock had said it at the same time, however, almost beating me to it too. It started a tiny stare war between us I ended when the Bald Man laughed a bit nervously, passive, letting it go.

"Thanks for keeping me honest." Teased he. "That wasn't mentalism, by the way, just an observation. My second observation is that _you_ are..._beautiful_."

"Thank you." The girl smiled, voice light and air. When she turned to look at me, she still wore her pretty-teeth gleam proudly and queen-like. Her hair was spice red, straight and wind-blown from the March air outside that frizzed my ponytail. On the coffee cup, white, Starbucks, like I guessed, the cursive 'Henley' made me feel a lot better about myself.

"Third is? I don't know who you are." Brother-Bald pointed two fingers at me, beckoning me into the conversation. I noticed that in his hand, and her hand, and the man at the door - tarot cards. Pulling mine from the back pocket of my jeans, feeling it's absence against the side of my thigh, the Justice Queen was smiling sinister at me when I glanced. I flipped the playing piece between my index and middle and aimed it so they could see.

"Margaret." I introduced myself in one breath, nodding and smiling back just a tiny bit when the one known as Henley gave me a big, welcoming grin. I liked her so far, I liked Fedora-Bora, but the jealous monster by the 6A plaque?

"Very nice, very well polished. Nice bit." Curly cut in, no longer paying attention to me, and instead, letting his green monster unleash on the greeting between the two opposing me. I was fine with this, contrary to belief. It was better to sink into the background and watch then start something I wasn't sure how to even begin, let alone end. "J. Daniel Atlas, nice to meet you."

He sounded anything but in pleasure to meet the guy, holding out his hand. I noticed how nicely dressed both Henley and the unknown mentalism man were, and how I more fit in with Daniel Atlas himself at the moment - a black hoodie, jeans, boots and a black cap to hold up a long set of curls.

The guy with no name, not the obnoxious one known to me now as Atlas, but the one with a good singing voice, reached in, as if to shake hands, only to flick him off right after.

Yes, I definitely liked him.

"Very nice." Daniel's sarcasm was starting to annoy me. I opened my mouth to tell him to knock it off, but he seemed to not see that I was trying to tell him to shut his bleeping pie hole and be nice to the guy, to me, to _Henley._ What gave him the right to be so rude? "I know who you are and I just wanna say that I'm not interested in your little mentalism thing especially when we don't know who brought us here and even if it's real or -"

"Sh, sh, shh." Said Baldie, pressing a finger to his lips, doing my job for me. Most likely catching my expression of quickly flaming anger. The redhead beside me littered a giggle into my ear unintentionally, but after that, all of my own pent up stress bubbled away in a way that could only be magic. I found myself giggling too.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm sensing...I'm sensing you -"

"...are a control freak?" I finished, patting Atlas on the back, squeezing the guy's neck in not a painful way, but a directive. After living my life with a bunch of brothers that acted the exact same way, always older, always condescending, I was pretty sure I knew how to take hold of a guy like this and make him _stop_ before he got too out of hand. He squirmed under my grip, narrowing his eyes until his lashes almost grazed his cheeks. "Relax a little, Curly-Fry."

"Have we met before?" Atlas asked both I, and the guy who went to shake my hand instead, clearly proud of my motivation. Henley scoffed, sipping her coffee.

"It doesn't take a mentalist to figure that one out. You _are _a control freak."

"Well, I take that as a compliment."

I scowled.

"Only he would take that as a compliment." Henley rephrased, shaking her head back and forth once.

"Okay. Great. Good. Another compliment."

My scowl got deeper.

"So, that's why you two are no longer a couple?" I inquired out of sheer wonder, leaning against the wall and fingering the hoodie on my back from habit. Part of me wanted to confine to myself like I always did, hidden away under the black hood or hat that gave me my_ Mad Hatter_ nickname along the boardwalk (_Mommy, mommy, look, it's the magic lady with the hats!_), but another part of me wanted to be open and get to know these strange, well, _strangers. _I knew that Build-a-Bald was a mentalist, that the cards were all connected, so my only guess could be that these other two were, also, magicians.

And if _that _was the case, then who the _hell _brought us together like this? And why? What purpose did any of this pose?

"A couple?" Henley and Atlas stuttered at the same time, looking at me like I'd just told them I was actually part sheep. Thus began their chopped up and bickered story about Henley fitting into costumes, or not fitting into trap doors? And about him calling her fat, something he swears he only did once? Well, first, Henley was anything but it, maybe curvy, but not fat. Regardless of the fact that I was a practical pencil - not my doing, I blame genetics, and I hate it. I'd rather have curves than be so bony - they also said something about a girl named Rebecca?

I lost focus when someone else decided to join us, during the moments I pulled the hood over my head.

Short, cropped dark hair, angular chin, he was quite nice to look at. But I wouldn't judge him off of that. Daniel was attractive, but his personality ruined it completely in my eyes. In fact, I would personally, at the moment, enjoy breaking Atlas's face just a bit to make him quit it with the attitude. However, _he_ waltzed up the stairs a bit awkwardly, not sure what to think of the situation.

And he wasn't alone.

I still was having difficulty with just staying put and waiting this entire ordeal out, or just bailing.

This was getting too..._weird._

"...I hope you enjoy each other's company." Atlas turned his face to look at the newcomer too, eyebrows knitting together.

"No way."

He was a boy, man - man. He was a man. Strong muscles, tall, raspy voice and smile. Yes, he was _very _nice to look at. I found myself forcing my inner she-devil to divert it's eyes in the same direction he was: to Daniel, who was still confused as to why he was being addressed by the stranger.

"J. Daniel Atlas?" Ah, he was already lacking a couple points by praising Atlas. It was clear in his eyes that he was ready to foam at the mouth over the magician I had never heard of. The thing was, while most of today's forth and coming magic makers had their main inspiration point from the big leagues, I had a a central place of all knowledge that wasn't from the modern age. Most of my work from old textbooks from the library or from antique and dying owners who kept them as heirlooms.

I had no idea who any of these people were, and if they were famous, or not. I surely wasn't. What's to say any of them were too?

"Dude, I have seen everything you've ever done - I mean, you're like, I-I-I Idolize you, like seriously."

Alright, so maybe Atlas was famous. Henley probably was too, if she was his assistant, and had her own website that Atlas, apparently Big-Balls-_Atlas_, was jealous of. Then there was Bald Beef and apparently the famous ones knew him, so he had to be _famous_ too. So I was surrounded by a bunch of, hence, _famous_ people I couldn't place for the life of me because I chose to stay away from social media most of my existence.

Fantastic.

"Okay, true fan. It's nice to meet you." Atlas shook hands with the guy, but didn't sound genuine the slightest. If the guy noticed or not, it was masked by his cheeky, starstruck smile.

"Yeah, yeah - Jack, by the way." He introduced himself formally, bring his hands to his sides. Jack._ Jack._ Eh, it suited him. Like a Jack in a playing deck.

I needed to get my head out of the cards.

Speaking of -

"Question: did you get one of these?" Baldy piped up, voice low and questioning, flicking his tarot into the air for everyone to see what he was talking about. Jack nodded enthusiastically, feeling around his jean pockets for what I guessed - and was confirmed when he found it - to be his tarot. The Grim Reaper art was dark and depressing, painted softly with some sort of stencil I couldn't figure. "Death." He noted. "Heh."

"The High Priestess." Henley's creamy voice coaxed the air as she showed off her card too.

"The Lover." I held in a snicker when her velvet voice turned into a ravaged cough of '3 minutes' to tease Daniel of his apparent less-than-stellar bedroom shenanigans. I'd remember that if for some reason, after this still frightening and furiously unforgettable meeting, if we still crossed paths, to constantly throw that, and many other secrets, in his face.

"Hermit." Sighed the man, obviously not pleased.

I fingered my own card with my pinkie.

"And I'm Justice." I concluded our little interrogation, having all original eyes on me, and a new pair from Mr. Jack, who appeared to have not even noticed I was there in the first place. Awkward, seeing how I had officially deemed him as something my eyes have been _privileged _to see. A very nice looking gentlemen like him is a sight for sore eyes. Better yet, if he's here because he's a magician, that's the icing on the metaphorical cake of my instant hormonal demeanor. I gave him a small wave with my hand I now freed of the card in one movement that made it appear to completely _disappear_ from thin air.

"So, what are we...are we _waiting _for someone?" Jack turned his attention from me after a small wave back, to the others. "I mean, why are we just -"

"The doors locked." We all said at once, Henley with a frown, Atlas with an eye roll, and I just a mutter as I recalled the last conversation to already have gone down due to that question. I didn't want a repeat.

Jack, alas, despite our claim, only let his smile grow wider.

"Oh no, no - nothing's ever locked." He told me, he told _us, _laughter dripping from his tone as he stepped around Beefy Beef and pulled from his pocket some sort of lock picking contraption. Complaining wasn't even in my mind - suddenly, with a kick off the wall and a peek over Atlas's shoulder, I wanted to know exactly _what _lay inside that room more than anything. Atlas seemed to tense about me being behind him, so close, which, I couldn't help but feel good about. At least I'd left a mark somewhere in his mind to keep his sass on the down low.

Let's see how long it lasts.

Once inside, flashlights out, one "_What is this place?_" from Henley later, and a long, unlit corridor that made my hair stick on end, I wasn't too sure I wanted _anything _to do with whatever 'this place' was. As we passed a bathroom, Henley being brave and peering in, clear by the smell of rust and decay that the contents were going to be very unclean. I didn't even need to look.

"Oh, wow, I thought _my _apartment was nasty." from Beef Cake Number 1, and I kept walking to not get a glimpse at the filth; so I liked being a clean person, do bite me.

"Man, it's f-freezing in here." Whispered Jack, and in response, I dampened my lips to try and keep them from chapping. I was sensing the temperature drop with every step we took. Actually, to be honest, feeling more like the gang from the Mystery Machine instead of grown adults waiting for an appointment, I sighed and stepped to the side, letting everyone pass by to investigate further on. Only Jack stayed a little back too, maybe for the same reason, maybe because he really didn't want to walk alone, and found a happy medium between the Big 3 who streaked on, and I.

"What's that?" Henley spoke up, pointing Atlas's wrist with the flashlight on the floor. When we finally all cleared into the room in question, a large, hexagonal shaped area, we all found in front of our eyes to be a folded note sitting soundlessly and a white rose, laying untouched and alone on the ground.

"I don't know." Someone replied, but I was too entranced in the note to care exactly who it was. Striding forward beyond Daniel, I picked the piece of parchment up between my fingers. The material was rough on the pads of my thumbs, and as I flicked it open, a flashlight from Atlas help me read the words:

_Now You Don't._

"Now You Don't." Echoed Atlas in my ear, his words questioning, surprisingly deep. Giving the ceiling a very un-amused stare, I handed it to J. Daniel Atlas just to get away from him, and instead hovered closer to Henley and Jack, who were studying the sad, fallen flower on the floor.

"A rose by any other name." She repeated after picking it up kindly, like her, walking backwards away from the strange pattern on the floor. Tossing it in a pitcher to let it breathe life again, there was a tiny, baby _clink _of the glass as it connected with the stem of the snipped up rose.

Water began leaking from the bottom.

It trailed across the hardwood tile towards the pattern inscribed in the floorboards, irregular, almost if it was being controlled by the particles in the ground beneath our feet. The clear liquid drained away into the symbol - a couple lines, forming a strange shape in the wood, until it was completely full of water. And when it got to be too much, as I stepped back, fearing what could happen just as the hair stood back up on my arms -

"It's gas." Jack's happy expression instantly vanish, but the unnamed macho man told him to calm down, and explained the trick he knew too well - dry ice. The science of sublimation: the ice instantly turning into a thick vapor due to a chemical reaction of carbon dioxide. I felt the vapor itself skim across my exposed neck and chin, and stood back even further, running into Henley by accident.

"Cool." Said she, not caring that I'd practically run her over anyways. I skipped away from her as well.

"Wait, what do you think this is all about?" Atlas inquired, looking the most serious I'd seen him yet.

"Hang on -" Started Fedora, squeezing his eyes together, mocking, teasing. I couldn't help but laugh a little, and as Jack snickered too, I wasn't the only one, "no, I got nothing."

"Alright, thank you for the delay."

"Hey, I'm just tryin'a create the space for wisdom."

And back and forth they bickered.

"Alright lovebirds, get a room." Henley snapped, unable to sound too vicious in that voice, yet getting everyone's attention once more regardless. No matter how controlling Atlas seemed to be, I had a feeling Henley was just as skilled at getting a crowds immediate reaction to her and what she had to say. Maybe she was _that_kind of entertainer. Only time would tell. "Danny, be honest - did you do this?"

He looked insanely shocked, perhaps even a little hurt. I didn't voice my opinion on the matter (that, being, I wouldn't put it past him).

"No." He looked to Jack. "Wait, did you?"

"Uh, I wish." The younger man chuckled awkwardly, and looked to myself next. I shook my head once, gazing back at Henley. Perhaps she had put this together, and it was all just a joke? But why? How did she know me? I sure as hell didn't know her from anywhere. Unless she was related to my Aunt Sabrina. I could see a bit of resemblance but -

"Why didn't anyone ask me if I did it?" Whined my Beefy Bald Bro, and when none of us answered, he got the answer he was looking for. "Oh, oh great."

After some more investigation, I noticed from the corner of my eye Atlas flicker the switch to what I hoped were the lights - but to no reaction. Nothing was turning on. Yet even when I told the man with no name to try twisting the light bulb, I knew that nothing would happen because clearly, there was faulty wiring going on. That, or we'd just walked into some sort of run down, out of service room, waiting to be cut up and sliced by Saw.

"Woah."

I stand corrected.

No Saw, no: "_Let's play a game_."

But as the light in the lamp came on, so did four beams from the softest blue laser from each wall. It echoed off our skin, shading our clothing, but we weren't paying attention to that.

We were paying attention to the light show in the center of the room, the blueprints of the century, right before our eyes that would lead to not only one of the best things that ever happen to me, but it told the secret to the rest of my life.


End file.
